


A Time and a Place

by NathanielCardeu



Series: The Malfoy Manor Fic War [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Action, F/M, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-08
Updated: 2017-06-08
Packaged: 2018-11-11 06:40:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,752
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11142945
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NathanielCardeu/pseuds/NathanielCardeu
Summary: Hermione and Draco have a job to do. They also can't stop bickering whilst they do said job.There's a time and a place for everything, but this is not either of those!





	A Time and a Place

**Author's Note:**

> Originally written for The Malfoy Manor Fic War - writers chose/were given a prompt a week, over the course of 7 weeks, with the challenge to write 7 complete stories. This was one of mine.

 

“Will you drop it already, Granger?” the blonde man hissed, as he left her side and dashed forward, hunched over, taking advantage of the shadows that painted the side of the warehouse black. His wand was held tightly, half raised and pointing towards the doorway. Close fitting, black trousers, topped by a tight, form hugging black pullover with a high turtle neck covered his body. His black boots splashed through standing water as he approached the entrance. His platinum blond hair, wet and slicked to his forehead, picked up the light cast by the fitful bulb above the door ahead, as he entered its area.

 

Raised up on a plinth, three stone steps leading to it with a dilapidated rail around the edge, the steel grey door sat, menacingly. The light, set in the wall above, flickered and flashed spasmodically. With its weak light it was possible to see the fine mist-like rain that fell from the blackened and cloudy skies above. The weather was not being kind, Draco Malfoy thought, a chill curl of air slipping through his clothes and making him shiver. He felt, rather than heard his companion join him and inwardly counted. He didn’t even make it to three.

 

“No, Malfoy,” she muttered, “I will _not_ drop it. You were late, on today of all days!” Her attire was almost identical to Draco’s and she carried her wand _en garde_ , her eyes watching all sides. Her mouth tightened as she caught his eyes roll, clearly having expected her to continue berating him. “You know how important this day is, for all of us. As your superior I have had to pull you up on this before. Now focus and stop trying to get us killed!”

 

In a flash she scuttled forward, around the edge of the plinth, keeping her head well below the top level. Her hair was plastered to her head and, for once, rendered almost straight by the rain. Her heart was pounding as she slipped along the stone to approach the door from the opposite side to Draco. She always loved these moments; the minutes circling the prey, ready to burst through any defences they had left, to do battle and emerge victorious, her opponent cowed and beaten. She loved it when Draco finally gave in and, by default, admitted she was right.

 

Still, she thought as she unravelled a particularly nasty jinx on the rail, she also liked these sorts of missions. Hunt the enemy and take them down. With the jinx disabled she gripped the rail and lifted herself up onto the plinth, gently testing before committing her weight to it. She saw Draco scanning his wand over the steps, moving up each step as he confirmed its safety.

 

In moments the two of them combined their efforts on the door, checking it for residual magic, hexes and jinxes, curses and other nasty traps. The wooden sign, hung next to the door, read ‘Warehouse 1’ in faded gold lettering. Above the door was a broken and battered sign that had seen better days. The letters had faded and, in some cases, vanished altogether.

 

Hermione and Draco knew that their targets had had plenty of time to rig the whole area with all manner of surprises and were taking no chances. Anti-Apparition spells had blanketed the area shortly after their arrival so there was no escape from this warehouse, unless it was through them; they knew that their target was going to fight rather than try to escape.

 

Draco checked the edges of the door, looking for signs of magical tampering while Hermione did the same on the door handle and lock. Satisfied that it was safe Hermione gently manipulated the mechanism and slowly unlocked the door, a muffling spell softening the click. After a moment to gather their defences they caught each other’s eyes and nodded.

 

Drawing a breath, Draco grabbed the handle and wrenched the door open. In a moment Hermione slipped inside, wand held ready to counter any attack

 

She quickly found two vicious traps, waiting just inside the door but they had not been set with much skill – most likely Goyle’s work – so disarming them was a simple matter. Hermione paused for a moment, taking in the warehouse space in front of her.

 

It was dark and subdued with a quiet menace in the air. Easily forty meters high, the warehouse’s ceiling was studded with long, rusting chains from which unlit lanterns hung. Several swung gently in an unfelt breeze but all were dark. The only light came from regular skylights set in the roof, allowing the stars and half moon’s watery light to filter through. Everything was cast in a strange, blue hue that created more shadows than illumination.

 

At floor level were boxes; hundreds and hundreds of boxes. They were stacked in rows and blocks running the length of the warehouse, each stack ten meters tall, minimum. To her left, set against the wall she was currently leaning against, was a flight of steel stairs that climbed in stages, up to a walkway that split off to run gantries across the open warehouse space. Another walkway hugged the left wall and ran to the far end, several walkways branching off to cross the warehouse to the other side. Other staircases were scattered throughout the chamber, allowing access to the large, wooden room built in the absolute centre; an office of some kind, raised above the warehouse floor. A lantern was burning in the window of this structure and Hermione saw a flicker of movement behind it.

 

“Clear,” she hissed and Draco slipped inside, pulling the door closed, muffling its closing with a whisper.

 

“Any traps?” he asked, as he familiarised himself with the layout.

 

“Only two, but they were as obvious as your choice of clothing.” Hermione said, sweetly.

 

“Really?” Draco said. “And what exactly do you mean by that, pray tell?”

 

“Oh, please,” Hermione said with a smile, already moving forwards to the first row of boxes, staying low. “Black suits in the office. Black shirt and trousers when out, informally. Black clothes for missions and training. Face it, your choice of attire is obvious; monochrome has many letters in common with monotony though, so I suppose I can’t blame you.” Hermione placed her back to the crate and grinned at Draco as he moved up beside her, a scowl on his face. “It does go _so_ well with your hair.” She ruffled his hair as she said this and gave a light laugh.

 

“Screw you, Granger! I look damn good in black, and you know it.” Draco flicked at the neck of his pullover, as if tugging at the collar of a shirt and Hermione rolled her eyes at his insolent smile.

 

She caught sight of the jet of red light at the last moment, just as it impacted with the box they were using for cover.

 

The sturdy wooden crate shattered into kindling as Hermione dove to the floor. Draco fell backwards, away from the explosion, already returning fire towards the stairway, even as the air was filled with more jets of light, falling boxes and the sound of splintering wood. The pile of boxes that relied on the crate for support tumbled to the floor, breaking open and spilling their contents everywhere, dark bags scattering across the floor in a spreading pool. When the devastation ceased, Hermione and Draco were nowhere to be seen.

 

The dark figure on the stairs had ceased his attack as he lost sight of his targets. He retreated back up the stairs, slowly, gaining space and the higher ground. The attacker paused at the top, his dark robes and silvery, skull-like Death Eater mask catching the moonlight, as he looked for the two investigators. He crouched lower as he scanned the warehouse floor, then gave a startled cry as the steel floor gave way beneath him.

 

As he fell he saw Malfoy spin out from cover, pointing his wand. “ _Expelliarmus!_ ” Malfoy yelled and the Death Eater’s wand was snatched from his hand, even as he was plucked from the air by another spell.

 

“ _Incarcerus!_ ” yelled Hermione, from directly beneath the Death Eater, bands of magical chain whipping out to bind him tightly. Hermione’s previous spell kept him hovering above the ground as Malfoy ran up to where she sheltered under the staircase.

 

Draco kept his back to the Death Eater, watching the rest of the warehouse, wary of any other attack. The Death Eater dropped to the ground with a groan of pain and Hermione swiftly unmasked him.

 

“Gregory, my dear. Bad luck at being first one caught,” Hermione said, with a laugh. “It seems like Pucey put too much faith in you as first line of defence.”

 

Gregory Goyle muttered angrily, struggling against his bonds. He was a large, muscled man but he couldn’t move them. “It’s not over yet, witch,” he spat, his heavy brow lowered, narrowing his eyes. “Still five against two and you have no idea where the others are!”

 

“No,” said Draco, “but at least we know how many we’re dealing with now, you jackass. And you’re not going to be getting involved anymore tonight. _Stupify!_ ”

 

The beam of red light struck Goyle in the side of the head and the thickset man shuddered and lay still.

 

“Nice one, you idiot!” said Hermione, angrily, “Now we can’t get anymore information out of him!”

 

“Oh pipe down, Miss-Know-It-All. We got all we need to know… and probably all _he_ knew too. There’s five more; that means Nott, probably Parkinson, almost definitely Flint and Pucey himself. That leaves only one unknown element in their team. What more do we need to know?”

 

“Armaments, traps, general positions and planned defences, modes of attack; quite a lot of things, Malfoy!” Hermione’s hair bristled with annoyance as she ticked each point off on her fingers. “Confirmation of who we’re facing would have been nice. At least we could have prepared for their most likely line of attack! If you let your own sense of self importance get in the way of the mission again, I will personally kick your arse!”

 

Despite snapping at each other the pair was already moving away from Goyle, checking down the rows of crates for danger. They separated briefly as they reached the sundered crate, Hermione keeping a wary eye out as Draco moved through the devastation of intact and broken crates, pile of debris and contents. Ducking down he scooped up one of the bags, curious as to its contents.

 

Keeping to the shadows he ducked down in the ruins of their earlier hiding place, the shadows covering him easily. The way ahead was clear so he opened the blue, cloth bag; gold embroidery visible on its side, illegible in the darkness. There were several items within the bag and the first thing that came to hand was a small cylinder. Draco pulled it free and turned it over in his hands. It appeared to be a telescope, folded shut. Tugging on the small lens that protruded from the device allowed the telescope to unfold to its full length.

 

“What sort of warehouse is this again?” he asked, putting his eye to the lens.

 

Hermione turned at his words and saw what he was holding. “Draco, no!” Hermione cried, just as there was a loud bang and a puff of black smoke enveloped his head. He gave a cry of pain and was knocked backwards, into the crate. The Boxing Telescope dropped to the floor, the small fist protruding from the end still wobbling on its spring.

 

Hermione dashed to Draco’s side, pulling him upright again. “Are you okay?” she asked, kneeling beside him and checking him over. “This is one the Weasley Wizard Wheezes warehouses, which you would have known if you had turned up to the briefing on time! This bag is a “fun bag” of some of their more popular devices.”

 

“I’m going to stuff that damn “fun bag” up Weasley’s arse, next time I see him!” Draco said, his hair dishevelled and a large, purple bruise marring the pale skin around his right eye. “Who the hell thought it would be a good idea to hole up in a weasel’s funhouse?”

 

“Haven’t you learned not to play with unknown items, especially if you haven’t got the slightest clue about what they do?” Hermione pulled Draco to his feet and, unable to keep an angry look on her face, grinned wickedly. “At least you’ll have that bruise on your eye till we can get you some of their bruise removal paste. Serves you right.”

 

Draco gingerly touched his eye, wincing at the pain. Looking over Hermione’s shoulder he saw a movement and registered two people moving up towards them, one at ground level and the other on top of the boxes to his right. The two figures were moving stealthily and using minor charms to shield their movements, unsuccessfully. Draco kept his features still but readied his wand and caught Hermione’s eye. “When I say, fire something particularly nasty down the aisle; keep it close to the boxes and then get in cover.”

 

Hermione put her hands on her hips. “Malfoy, this is no time for your usual brand of arrogance and idiocy. We are on a very important…”

 

“Now! _Reducto!_ ” Draco shouted, loosing a bolt of bright, white energy, over Hermione’s shoulder, that obliterated and burnt into the side of the box that one of their assailants was standing on. At the same time he threw himself back into cover, amongst the wreckage surrounding him.

 

The crate Draco had hit gave way and, as the Death Eater began to fall, Hermione sent a vicious hex, skipping and burning its way down the path. She flung herself across the aisle, into cover by the boxes on the other side of the corridor as she heard a female cry of pain.

 

“Pansy!” cried Draco, a huge smile on his face. “I thought that was you, shuffling your way down to us. Ready to get your arse kicked again?”

 

“You wish, Malfoy!” came the screeching reply, as Pansy Parkinson scrambled to her feet, beating out the flames that Hermione’s hex had ignited. The hard faced woman glared towards the far end of the walkway, her wand held ready.

 

To Pansy’s left the other Death Eater swore and kicked himself free from a horde of strange mouths on tiny legs that hopped around him, kissing him and tangling themselves in his hair. “Get off me you damn freaks!” he roared, striking all around him with fire bolts, blasting the exuberant devices into oblivion. Finally the last of them ceased to exist and the Death Eater looked around, aware of Pansy’s annoyed stare.

 

“When you’re _quite_ finished, Nott?” She nodded upwards, then towards the end of the gangway, the side on which Hermione had hidden. The tall man nodded brusquely and scrambled up the remaining crates to the top once more.

 

“Malfoy,” Pansy called, “You know what I’m going to do when I get hold of you?” There was no response but Pansy glanced up and, as Theo approached the last crate, Pansy prepared to swing around her side. “I’m going to make sure everyone knows who it was who bested you!”

 

At this she swung around the crate, unleashing a barrage of curses into the splintered remains of the box. They struck the far side, harmlessly. Draco was not there anymore.

 

Instantly Pansy swung around, seeing Theo land lightly on the opposite side. There was no sign of Hermione either. Pansy flicked her wand at her own face, deftly removing her mask in a swirl of smoke and tossed her head in Theo’s direction, indicating for him to hunt the bushy-haired witch down.

 

Putting him out of her thoughts Pansy turned her attention to finding Draco. Slowly and carefully she moved through the warehouse, moving deeper amongst the stacks. “Hey Malfoy,” she called, loudly. “When Theo finds Hermione… ooh, I don’t rate her chances. He’s been working on some particularly nasty hexes, you know?”

 

The air around her was still and silent, only the sounds of her own muffled footsteps reached her ears. She could feel the sweat, trickling between her shoulder blades, making her robe clammy and stick to her back. “You can’t hide forever, Malfoy! You never were one for staying hidden; always wanting to be in the limelight, the centre of attention.”

 

She walked along a particularly long aisle. The sides were all the same height except for one point where the row was only one box high for a short distance, before resuming their looming presence. “Malfoy! I know you! There’s no way you can resist fighting me!”

 

Draco stepped through the side of the boxes, through the illusion he had cast and jabbed his wand into Pansy’s neck, reaching out and grabbing her wand. She shut her eyes and muttered under her breath, lifting her hands in surrender.

 

“And there’s no way you can keep your mouth shut when hunting people, Parkinson,” Draco said, with a smug smile.

 

Pansy snarled in futile anger as Malfoy made her kneel, binding her hands with a silent spell. The lower crates shimmered and vanished, revealing a path that cut across the length of the warehouse. With a whispered incantation Malfoy dragged Pansy across the walkway and against the wooden side of a crate labelled “SKIVING SNACKBOXES”.

 

“Really need to work on that, Pansy. Might get you killed one day.”

 

“Hey, Draco,” she said, looking up at him. “Fu…”

 

 _“Langlock!”_ Draco flicked his wand as he cast his spell, grinning as Pansy’s words were stolen and her tongue was stuck to the roof of her mouth. “Now, now! Let’s have no bad language, please!”

 

The witch’s eyes glared murder as Malfoy used another spell to bind Pansy’s legs and then stun her unconscious. From the other side of the warehouse Draco saw flashes of multi-coloured light, blasts of sound from curses and hexes. The sound of wood shattering filled the air and he grinned. Leaving Pansy behind he ducked low and ran to find Hermione, seeing a whole row of crates begin to crash to the ground.

 

There was a dull thump as several of the collapsing boxes exploded in bursts of flame and light. Huge piles of Weasley fireworks erupting and launching in all directions; exploding, zipping, shrieking and bursting. The noise was incredible and Draco had to duck several low flying rockets that spun through the warehouse.

 

Once the dust had settled and the last of the explosions had died away, Draco found Hermione. She was, at that moment, fighting a running battle against Theo Nott. The pair of them cast and defended themselves against numerous spells, firing across a small space with neither one able to grab the advantage. They paused, resting against opposite sides of the same crate.

 

Hermione could feel her chest aching as she struggled to catch her breath. Her side burned from a hex that had cut through her robes and into her skin. It didn’t feel serious but it certainly hurt. Sweat trickled down her face and neck as she held her wand ready. She could hear Theo’s heavy breathing, close by. She had caught him a few times but they were evenly matched, just about. He had managed to surprise her at first and kept her on the back foot, pressing his advantage and unleashing a storm of spells at her. Many of those spells were unknown to the clever witch and it annoyed her that Theo Nott knew something that she didn’t.

 

“Give up yet, Hermione?” gasped Theo, and the witch gave an involuntary laugh.

 

“I don’t think so, Theo. Thanks for the offer though, real sporting of you.” Hermione looked around her, looking for some way to turn the tables on her opponent. She caught sight of a movement at the corner of her eye and flicked her wand towards it, ready for an attack.

 

No attack came but a small creature appeared from the shadows. As it came closer, Hermione recognised it, with a grin, and quickly stuck her hands over her ears. Tiny legs ran frantically underneath a large horn, sticking out of the front, a set of tiny cymbals on its top and a number of strange tubes protruding from the rest of its body. It was only a few centimetres high and it ran, past Hermione, straight towards Theo’s position.

 

The noise when the Decoy Detonator went off was incredible. Black smoke poured out of it to fill the area and its honking horn blasted Theo with loud parps, as its whistles blew and the cymbals crashed.

 

As Theo Nott staggered away from the noise, clutching his ears, Draco reared up from his hiding place, a Stunning spell jetting across the gap between the two men. The spell caught Theo across the face and dropped him, instantly.

 

“Knew that little thing would come in handy,” said Malfoy with a smug grin, as he sauntered towards Hermione, dropping the bag he had taken earlier. The bushy-haired witch rolled her eyes at Draco, wiping sweat from her face. Draco continued to look at her, his eyebrow raised.

 

“What?” she snapped.

 

“Aren’t you going to say ‘Thank you’? I did, after all, just save your knackered, old arse from getting beaten by Theo Nott. Least you can do is say thanks. I’ll even settle for, ‘Draco, you were amazing’”

 

“Draco,” Hermione said, looking him in the eye, “the day you turn up at work, on time, will be the day I say, ‘You’re amazing’. And as that is unlikely to ever happen…”

 

“Ah, _this_ again? I just saved your arse and you throw this back in my face? I can’t believe you, Granger! You just can’t stand that I had to step in to save you from Theo Nott!” Draco shook his head, folding his arms, almost petulantly.

 

Hermione straightened her clothes, brushing the dirt and splinters of broken wood from them. “That you decided to involve yourself in my duel is your own concern. Really, you shouldn’t have got involved. I had it under control.”

 

“You’re bleeding,” Malfoy pointed out casually, indicating her forehead.

 

Hermione swiped at the area with her hand, removing the trickle of blood from the cut to her temple. “I haven’t got time to bleed,” she quipped.

 

“Oh, okay,” Draco said, grabbing her arm and yanking her towards him, their faces almost touching as Hermione lost her balance. A glob of viscous, green liquid splattered against the crate, hissing and burning through the wood, right where Hermione’s head had been. “You got time to duck?”

 

Pushing her ahead of him, Draco ran along the box lined corridor, firing jinxes into the sky. Marcus Flint, astride his broom, unmasked, swooped down on the pair as they fled. His wand launched stinging hexes and other nasty curses as he attacked. His speed and height made it almost impossible for Draco to hit him. The pair dodged to the side, down a side passage, just as Marcus blasted overhead.

 

“Well,” said Draco, his breath heaving from the near-sprint, “that’s an interesting line of attack.”

 

“Plenty of space to manoeuvre,” Hermione said, breathily, “multiple directions he can come from… brilliant, really.”

 

“Maybe,” muttered Draco, listening intently to sound of Marcus’ broom as it rushed through distant channels, the blond wizard trying to guess which way the next attack would come from. “One thing I want to know though… what on earth was that weird, insipid concoction you were going to eat for lunch yesterday?”

 

“ _What?!_ ” snarled Hermione, her head whipping round to glare at him. “That was my specially prepared, healthy meal that mysteriously disappeared! From my _locked_ office!” Her wand was brought up to point at Draco’s face. “ _You_ stole it, Malfoy!”

 

“Easy, easy,” he muttered, pushing her wand aside. “I saved you. It was bloody horrible!” His face twisted in disgust as he remembered the taste and feeling. “I threw most of it away because it was so unpalatable.”

 

“You threw away my lunch!?” Hermione shrieked. Draco winced but she wasn’t finished. Her face almost turned red as she slapped his shoulder, hard. “How _dare_ you! You shouldn’t have taken it in the first place and you had no right to throw it away, just because you didn’t like it!”

 

Draco shrugged, stepping away from her so she couldn’t hit him again. “It was all squishy and spicy and burned my mouth. It was some awful Muggle food wasn’t it? How can you eat that crap?”

 

With an angry growl Hermione straightened and flicked her head, primly, her hands on her hips. “That _crap_ was my favourite recipe, Malfoy! It was my hot and spicy tofu and you had no right to steal it from me!”

 

“That was the worst tasting toffee I have ever had!”

 

“TOFU, you moron! It’s a vegetarian food made from coagulated soy milk...”

 

“Yummy…” Draco grimaced.

 

“The recipe is really easy to make too,” Hermione enthused, ignoring him. Her tone shifted to lecturing, as Draco cocked his head to the side, hearing Marcus getting closer again. “It’s a bell pepper, red onion and a fresh green chilli, some white vinegar, soy sauce and a little brown sugar…”

 

“Why are you telling me this, Granger?” Draco asked, in disbelief. “Did you not hear me say it was foul? Awful Muggle crap, I believe were my exact sentiments.”

 

“Well, excuse _me_ for trying to expand your culinary palate, but _I_ happen to like it!”

 

“And I think you should both shut up and let me blast you to hell!” The gruff voice came from overhead, where Marcus Flint hovered, wand raised to strike.

 

The pair dived aside as Marcus launched a blistering ball of fire at them. As Draco and Hermione ran down the long corridor, Marcus kicked off from the boxes, gaining distance again. Swooping around, he came at them in a low, lightning fast charge.

 

Draco heard him coming in time. “Hermione, get down!” the blond wizard yelled as Flint unleashed a flurry of attacks against them. Hermione threw herself to the side as Draco turned. His wand moved fast, blocking and deflecting curse after curse, gradually being forced backwards as each one hit his shields. As Marcus roared past, he flipped his leg over the broom, hanging by his hands, to launch a devastating two-footed kick that caught Draco in the face.

 

Malfoy was unprepared for the physical attack and was sent flying, accompanied by a sickening, crunching sound, blood squirting from his mouth and nose. He hit the floor and rolled, end over end, his wand flying from his grasp, finally coming to rest several meters from Hermione. He lay still, stunned and bloodied.

 

Marcus swung himself back up onto his broom, soaring upwards and laughing, into the dark roof space over the warehouse. Leaning forward he rocketed towards the far end, giving himself space to manoeuvre and begin another attack run.

 

Hermione picked herself up from the floor, running to Draco’s side. “Draco! Draco, are you alright?” Rolling him onto his side she saw his eyes closed and the damage caused. His nose was clearly broken; his lip was split and the blood made a horrific mask, painting his pale skin lighter than usual. He was still breathing though and Hermione sighed with relief. “Brave, stupid idiot,” she chided under her breath as she cast a healing charm.

 

The cringe-inducing crunch as Draco’s nose reset itself turned Hermione’s stomach a little. Malfoy moaned loudly as his flesh began to knit together, slowly regaining his senses.

 

The approaching sound of Flint’s broom brought Hermione’s head up. “Your turn, witch!” Marcus yelled as he bore down on her. Marcus lifted his wand, bringing it back behind his shoulder to prepare another devastating attack.

 

Hermione surged to her feet. “Yes, my turn,” she hissed, her face thunderous, her hair standing out from her head as raw magic surged through her in crackling waves. She began jabbing her wand towards Marcus, bolts of light and fire shooting from it in waves.

 

Marcus batted them away, returning fire with his own wand as he closed the distance between them. Crates were shattered and melted, their contents reduced to featureless slag as charm, hex and curse were thrown, countered, deflected and avoided.

 

The spells were getting close to Draco’s prone form and so Hermione turned and ran, Marcus sweeping up and around to follow her. She reached a staircase, twisting in its shadow to fire a number of spells at Marcus, forcing him to veer away from her again. His speed was incredible and the grace with which he controlled the broom made it easy for him to avoid most of her spells. Those that came close were batted away or struck his shields.

 

Quickly, whilst Marcus came around again, Hermione dashed up the metal stairs, swiftly reaching the gantry, high above the warehouse. From her lofty position she could see the office building and two figures in dark robes standing before the door, masks covering their faces, their wands drawn.

 

She didn’t have long to catch her breath as Flint soared up above her and turned in the air to attack. Marcus, his arm flung back, swooped down on Hermione, his face twisted in concentration as he prepared a vicious curse.

 

“ _Impedimenta!!_ ” Hermione screamed.

 

Her spell smashed into the front of Marcus’ broom, stopping it dead, flipping the back up and over and catapulting Flint off at incredible speed. He hurtled through the air, yelling in fear as he tried to control himself. He was too close to the wall of boxes to manoeuvre and, with a bone-shaking impact, smashed through the side of a crate and disappeared from view.

 

A sharp, slow clap echoed through the warehouse and Hermione turned to face the remaining two Death Eaters. One had started to move around on a separate gantry, flanking her position whilst the remainder stepped onto her walkway, slowly applauding.

 

“Brilliant work, my dear” the Death Eater said. He lifted his hand, pulling his mask off and dropping it. Adrian Pucey continued to walk slowly towards Hermione, whilst his fellow Death Eater stalked her, across the open space. Adrian smiled, sneering slightly, his dark eyes glittering with glee. “You are quite brilliant… but you have left yourself almost exposed now, haven’t you.” Pucey raised his wand, causing Hermione to bring hers up in defence, a Shield Charm forming briefly in front of her. The wizard on the other gantry was also ready, moving still so he was behind her position.

 

Hermione had to turn to keep them both in view, trying to still her racing heart after her fight with Flint. She had to do something soon or she would be easily defeated. “Very well, Pucey. Let’s do this, shall we?”

 

“Ah, Hermione,” Pucey laughed, “it’s taken you all this effort to confront me and you won’t even let me have a master villain monologue?” He wagged a sarcastic finger. “Shame on you.”

  
“It’s simple, Adrian my dear. You are the bad guy and we have to defeat you, and your henchmen. I didn’t know there would be a story as well.” With a grin Hermione flicked her wand and a ball of fire leapt out, hurtling back, over her shoulder, to strike at the other wizard, still attempting to move behind her.

 

The Death Eater gave a grunt of surprise as he swatted the fire away but immediately launched a curse of his own, at Hermione’s back. The clever witch was already moving however and the curse missed its mark.

 

Running forwards, Hermione almost caught Pucey off guard. He blocked her attacks; fire and jets of light crossing and blasting, exploding against each other in the dim light. Rolling past Pucey on the metal gantry Hermione moved to gain space and put both Death Eaters in front of her again.

 

Over Pucey’s shoulder Hermione saw a large crate, hovering in mid air, behind the masked Death Eater. As both assailants closed in Hermione grinned, seeing the crate moving at the behest of Draco Malfoy. Bloodied and bruised but on his feet, the blond wizard moved quickly along the walkway, parallel to the one on which Hermione and the Death Eaters stood.

 

Draco’s wand swung the crate towards the masked Death Eater, who, sensing his danger, span around. A swirl of light mist surrounded the wizard as he turned, attempting to Disapparate. Hermione wished she could have seen his face as the Anti-Apparition charm, cast before they had begun their assault, blocked his attempt. The crate split apart as it crashed into the dark robed figure, and his mask slipped off as he fell. Hermione caught a momentary glimpse of Zabini’s shocked face, before it vanished under the contents of the box.

 

Malfoy casually dropped the remains of the box on top of Blaise, and sprinted down the gantry, running round to join Hermione. Pucey merely watched with a wry smile on his face. Hermione had retreated further, attempting to gather her wits. They had been battling for some time and she was mentally exhausted.

 

“Hermione, are you okay?” Draco called as he got closer. He turned to run across the connecting bridge, smiling as Hermione moved to join him. She backed along the bridge, watching Pucey’s every move. She felt her heart soar as Draco called her name; his injuries had worried her and she smiled, turning slightly to look at him, glad to see him up and moving.

               

In that moment of distraction she heard Pucey speak and time seemed to slow to a crawl.

 

“ _Avada Kedavra!_ ”

 

“NO!” screamed Draco, sprinting towards her at a glacier’s pace.

 

Horror painted Hermione’s face as she stumbled to a halt, spinning towards Pucey, disbelief warring with anger. She moved through treacle, her wand lifting to shield herself, knowing it was useless. The bolt of green light swam towards her, glittering and pulsing with danger and death.

 

Pucey stood tall, wand outstretched and a faint smile on his face; an evil light flickered in his eyes, warring with mirth.

 

“ _Protego Totalum!_ ” Hermione shouted in desperation, the swirling mist flowing from her wand to form the protective sphere. The shield firmed, a moment before the Killing Curse burst through, shattering the bubble into a thousand, insubstantial pieces. The bolt came on, unhindered. Hermione felt the sudden impact and cried out.

 

The impact knocked her sideways, away from the bolt’s path. Fear surged through her; she registered Draco’s presence, her name on his lips, as he shoved her to the floor. The collision jarred the wand from her grip and her head crashed against the metal barrier, blurring her vision. As the wand tumbled across the steel floor she rolled onto her back, gazing up at Draco.

 

The green light still surged through him, the livid splash of emerald across his shoulder showing the point of impact. His wand fell from his nerveless grip as he was pushed backwards, his body convulsing, electric blue-green pulses shooting through him.

 

“Hermione…” he gasped as he toppled backwards, over the rail and dropped into the darkness below.

 

For an eternity Hermione could only stare into the shadows, unable to see, unable to hear; her blood surged through her body in furious pulses. She couldn’t comprehend what had just happened – that Pucey had… that Draco was…

 

She couldn’t finish either thought. Both were so terrible in their reality that it left her white-hot with rage. Incandescent fury ripped through her body, an explosion of anger, brighter and more powerful than any firework ever created. Magic crackled from her fingers and limbs, her hair sparking with energy. Her wand leapt from the gantry, slapping into her hand as she surged to her feet.

 

With a cry that merged anger and sorrow in equal measures Hermione launched a flurry of hexes and curses at Adrian. Her earlier weariness was gone, replaced with wrath. Magic poured through her, responding to her call and the excess bled away from her in bright sparks. The lanterns flared into life around her, bathing the area in light.

 

Pucey staggered backwards under Hermione’s barrage, his wand creating shields and deflecting each attack as it came. His features were set in concentration, narrowly avoiding possible dismemberment. He couldn’t gain any advantage in the exchange, focusing solely on defence, duelling to the very limits of his ability.

 

His only disadvantage was that Hermione was far more powerful than he was. The thing that finally broke through his defences wasn’t a curse or a hex. No charm or spell penetrated his whirling shields or wards.

 

It was a crate of Weasley Wizarding Fireworks, lifted from the warehouse floor and flung at his head.

 

Hermione had interspersed her attack spells with several simple charms that lifted the weighty box, manoeuvred it into position and then launched it, with force. The large crate drove Pucey through the side of the office building and pinned him against the far wall.

 

Hermione paused for a moment, her breathing ragged and shaky. The energy still flowed through her but slower now, quiescent almost.

 

In the office Adrian pushed at the crate, sliding it across the floor till he had space to fall. Collapsing to the side he dragged himself free, crying out in pain as his leg protested his attempts to move it. Glancing down he saw the ankle was twisted in an unnatural angle. Slowly he pulled himself up, using the box to steady himself as he collected his wits. His robes were ripped in various places and hung from his shoulders. Cuts decorated his face from the jagged splinters and he hobbled his way to the gaping hole in the side of the office.

 

Hermione was stood, balanced on the rail, above where Draco had fallen only a short time ago. She looked over her shoulder at Adrian.

 

Pucey coughed, tried to speak, cleared his throat and tried again. “As victories go… that wasn’t nearly as impressive as I was expecting.”

 

Hermione smiled. “Goodbye, Adrian,” she said and her wand flicked upwards. “ _Confringo!_ ”

 

The ball of fire flicked up and over, growing and burning brighter as it flew past Pucey’s shoulder. He turned, pressing his back against the remains of the wooden wall, watching as the fireball burned through the side of the crate. Behind him, Hermione dropped from the edge of the gantry, into the shadows below.

 

Adrian closed his eyes. “Ah, shi…”

 

The world turned white, as the office building was ripped apart.

 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

 

Three days passed and Hermione sat in the uncomfortable chair, staring down at the report in front of her. Her injuries had been healed and she was sound in body but she still ached inside from what had happened in the warehouse.

 

The fight… the bickering… Draco…

 

She rubbed a weary hand over her eyes and signed the report, sliding it across the table to her companion.

 

“I’m still not happy that you call the mission a ‘successful failure’, Harry,” she said, “Draco and I took down Pucey and his cronies. Yes, there was a lot of collateral damage and…”

 

“And Draco got hit by the Killing Curse. That means he’s dead, Hermione,” Harry Potter said, sternly, pushing his glasses back up his nose again. “This is serious. Your relationship with Draco, I and the other Aurors feel, led to that death.” Leaning forward Harry took Hermione’s hands. “If you hadn’t been squabbling the whole time I feel that you would have been more focused. If you hadn’t been connected to Draco as you were, you wouldn’t have dropped your guard with Pucey.”

 

Harry signed the report and stood, his chair squeaking on the marble floor as it slid back. Glancing up he looked through the window behind Hermione. In a separate room he watched the six people laugh and joke with each other. Pucey seemed to be describing Marcus’ nose dive into the box, much to the others’ great appreciation. Flint wasn’t quite so amused but smiled, grudgingly.

 

“The best thing is that at least all six of your targets survived to stand trial,” Harry said, moving to the door. “That did you some favours, in the long run.” He held the door open for Hermione who stood and walked out without a word.

 

Walking down the narrow corridor Hermione passed the open doorway to the small room. Laughter and joking reached her ears and she looked in, almost against her will. Instantly the laughter ceased and the occupants variously smiled sheepishly, looked at their feet or grimaced. Adrian Pucey stood and started to walk towards Hermione. He was still battered and bruised; the Healers had left his non-life threatening injuries to heal naturally.

 

“Hermione,” he said, hesitantly, “I’m…”

 

“Fuck you, Pucey,” Hermione said, turning in a swirl of bushy hair and stalking away. There were tears in her eyes as she almost ran towards the lift and her heart heaved in her chest, full of pain and fit to burst. Dashing the tears away with a rough hand she threw open the lift door.

 

The lady inside the lift screamed in terror, almost stopping Hermione’s racing heart. After a moment the witch recognised the lady, taking in her uniform – the white Healer’s robes from St Mungos – and the report in her hands.

 

“What is it?” she asked, brusquely.

 

Still clutching her chest and breathing hard, the Healer passed the report to Hermione. She read it quickly before stepping into the lift with the Healer. The witch took the report back and the door closed, the lift whisking them away.

 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

 

Some time later Hermione sat by the bed in St Mungos. The sheets were fresh and crisp and almost matched the skin of the occupant. Cuts and abrasions marred the smooth, pale flesh but the steady, strong breathing helped Hermione to relax as she held the hand that rested on the covers.

 

All around her the Medi-Witches bustled about their daily business, tending to their patients. For Hermione though there was no-one else in the ward with her, other than her husband.

 

Black circles lined the steel grey eyes as they slowly opened, taking a moment to focus on her. She brushed the platinum blond hair from his face and returned Draco Malfoy’s slight smile.

 

“Hi,” she whispered, “Welcome back.”

 

“Did we win?” he asked, his dusty voice sounding like the rasp of a lizard’s scales across stone.

 

Hermione gave a small laugh. “Sort of. We got them all but you left me a widow, you git,” she whispered. “Harry calls it a successful failure so we’re still not going to be allowed to work together in the field.”

 

“So we’re back to working separate missions again?” At her nod, Draco sighed. “Sometimes I wonder if he’s right, but I can’t stand the thought of not knowing that you’re safe.”

 

“Me too, my darling. Harry says we argue too much whilst on mission, sniping at each other, using my maiden name disparagingly… It distracts us and that’s why you ended… ended up dead… Oh Merlin, Draco, I’m so glad to see you awake!” She leant forward and hugged him tightly, making him groan in protest. A Medi-Witch cleared her throat pointedly and Hermione settled back in her chair with a sheepish smile. “Sorry, Draco.”

 

“S’okay,” he mumbled, wincing. “Pucey’s already been in to see me, earlier today; left me an apology note.”

 

Hermione sniffed, pointedly and folded her arms. “I’m never talking to Adrian Pucey again! He had no right to do that to you.”

 

“That’s the good thing about the Unforgivable Curses though, love. They don’t have as much power if you don’t really mean them. Adrian cast it for effect but didn’t have any intention of killing either of us. When it hit me, it just shocked me and knocked me out; all of my injuries were caused by hitting the floor!” Draco chuckled slightly. “Sixth year, we used to prank each other, in the Dungeons at Hogwarts, with the Crutiatus curse. As long as you watch your thoughts as you cast it, it only hurts a little… well, a lot… for an hour…”

 

Hermione harrumphed and tutted at this, but Draco carried on, grinning at the memories. “The Killing Curse is the same. Oh sure, you’d probably kill a small rat with it, even if you didn’t mean it… but it only knocked that first year out for a couple of days…”

 

“I’m still not talking to him!” Hermione snapped. “And _you’re_ not going to either.”

 

“Hey, he’s my friend, and I’ll talk to him if I want!” Draco responded, his voice rough still. “I’m not going to stop talking to him over a bloody test result! He and his team were told to do whatever was necessary…”

 

“Necessary?!” shouted Hermione, surging to her feet and drawing scandalised looks from the attendants in the ward. “Necessary, my arse! Draco, he _killed_ you! How is that _necessary_? You were in a coma for three days!”

 

“Oh, for the love of… Hermione, shut up and sit down!” Draco roared, his gravelly voice breaking. His face twisted in pain as his injuries protested. “Damn it woman, I’m alive aren’t I? Do you think a real Dark wizard is going to go easy on us in the field?”

 

“Mr and Mrs Malfoy,” hissed one of the nurses, stepping up to the arguing pair. “People are trying to rest here. There is a time and a place for a domestic, and this is not it!” She held their gaze for a long moment before Hermione dropped into her chair and Draco looked away. “Now, one more outburst, and Mrs Malfoy will have to leave.”

 

Draco stuck out his tongue at her retreating back and Hermione giggled. “I do have to go though, darling,” she said. “I need to speak to George again, about compensation for the damage caused at the warehouse. I also need to prepare the house for the Master’s return.”

 

“Are you going to be my live-in nurse, till I’m well again?” Draco asked with a grin.

 

Hermione kissed him tenderly on the mouth. “I’ll ensure my dear Lord and husband is suitably cared for upon his return to our humble abode. A special meal will be cooked, in your honour.”

 

Draco grinned as Hermione walked away. “It better not be that awful tofu crap!” he called, laughing as she stuck two fingers up at him, without turning around.


End file.
